Monday, June 8, 2009

Evening Primrose:



Andy Warhol quipped that he had "social disease." "I go to openings. I'll go to the opening of anything, even a toilet seat."

When the sun went down on the dandyland gardens, I brought lawn chairs out beyond the rose hedge so that Cebah and I could watch the Evening Primrose opening. Just as twilight arrives they give a sudden little audible pop and the petals unfurl. It is much, much better than television. Not that that's saying much. It is exquisitely suspenseful and very entertaining, and lovely.
My cousin Barbara gave me the plants a couple of years ago, and they're just now getting big enough to bloom. So far there have only been two openings, one last night, and one tonight, but later this summer there will be dozens each evening. The show's going to get more eventful.

The writer and historian Wilma Dykeman, (now departed) was a friend. Not only did I adore her ever curious mind and personality, but she was the only person I've ever known who wore primrose yellow powder makeup, just a light dusting, along with yellow clothes and hats that made her blondness spectacular. She once slipped off from a fairly droll social gathering we were at, whispering in my ear as she said her goodbyes that she had to be out of there, it was almost twilight and she was going to a primrose opening.



I feel sorry for Andy sometimes, but I suppose I shouldn't.

4 comments:

Cathy said...

What a lovely sight on a gray rainy morning! And what a sweet, thoughtful treat for Cebah.

I don't suppose you could bribe the flower fairies to keep the openings going on until September...

Dan Dutton said...

Oh don't worry, September has its own lovelies.

Cathy said...

Oh honey, look at you - that is the sweetest pic.

And yes, Wilma was just lovely and golden.

Dan Dutton said...

I was such a waif.

That pic was taken about the time that I started dancing a lot, mostly outside. The dances were responses to particular places ~ and just before that photo I had been dancing on a hill near Berea where I was staying with a friend. That dance came back as a story, and a body memory, the other day during YACB work. It was an exact sequence that used the inclines of the hill to accelerate running and spinning & ended with a vaulting forward somersault over a wooden fence with a deep ditch on the other side! It really boggles my mind to think that I did that somersault the first time, much less hundreds of times after that.

It had "music" of a sort too, funny mouth sounds that I picked up from my nephew Luke, who was a toddler then. And it even had a name (In my mind - no one ever saw me do it except for the friend I was staying with - & she was scared to death of it.) ~ Bzzzt. (That was one of the sounds.)

The hill was on a little farm pretty far out in the country, but there may have been neighbors. I do wonder now if anyone saw it, and what they thought they saw if they did!